Beginning of a Legacy
by fantasymonk
Summary: Events that take place early in the same year as Tron: Legacy. Marked as complete and can stand alone, but I'm planning to write a continuation. Rated T just for a bit of violence and mild language.


Beginning of a Legacy

Author: fantasymonk

Notes: Set at the beginning of the year (early January) that Tron: Legacy takes place. I don't know when Jr. came onto the scene, so I've pretty much ignored him in the story.

Alan exited the elevator, briefcase in hand and glad to be out of the brisk January air that Monday morning. He strode down the hallway to his office, smiling at the attractive young woman who sat at the desk just outside his door. Her honey-blonde hair was pulled back into a loose bun, with soft tendrils falling loosely at the nape and around her face.

"Good morning, Vivian." His greeting was met with a wide smile and a small stack of notes.

"Good morning Alan. You have two calls that need to be returned, and Mr. Mackey wants you to look at the presentation he's going to do this afternoon. Something seems wrong with the file and he needs it fixed before 3 pm." Alan gave a small sigh and rolled his eyes, causing her to laugh. They both knew that Mackey had a decent mind for business, but tended to run to Alan with all his technical problems, instead of the IT staff. The chairman's motivation might have been a pressing need to remind the older man of his actual non-status in the company by treating him as some kind of errand boy, but Alan possessed an unwavering loyalty to the business Flynn had taken over years ago. Whatever it took, he would help make sure it ran smoothly. Unfortunately, in the prior week that meant late nights and little sleep. Vivian watched him as he looked through the papers in his free hand, concern obvious on her face. She knew he'd been leaving far later than most anyone else in the company, except for the janitorial staff. And he arrived very soon after she did, which was also earlier than most. Hazel eyes glanced over at her, catching her expression.

"Don't make that face Vivian," he teased. "You get a little wrinkle right between your eyes that scrunches up your nose. You're much too young for wrinkles." The aforementioned wrinkle eased as she laughed again, but it didn't lessen her worry. The secretary was devoted to her boss, admiring his soft-spoken manner and old-fashioned sensibilities. He'd always treated her as a lady, ever since she came to Encom a year and a half ago. That length of time working together gave her free rein to speak her mind, and she used it now.

"I don't think you've slept but a few hours in the last three days. You're going to wear yourself into the ground," she scolded. "Mr. Mackey's problem won't take you that long, and there's nothing really pressing on your agenda until after lunch. You should treat yourself to a nap in your office." His silver-gray head shook back and forth, an adorable smile creasing both cheeks with deep dimples as he chuckled. The warm, husky sound made her smile again and enforced the urge to watch out for his welfare, since the poor man refused to do it himself.

"All right, all right, I'll see what I can do. I want to get started on my emails first, and I need to check some expense reports. For now, I'll just promise not to collapse until the most convenient time." He gave a little wink and disappeared into his office, shutting the door behind himself. She clicked her tongue disapprovingly, but laughed just the same. He was the best boss she'd ever had, and Ms. Vivian Hale was going to make sure that Mr. Alan Bradley didn't neglect himself too much.

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Vivian kept herself busy with filing for the most part, taking a few calls that added more meetings to Alan's schedule in the upcoming week. She pursed her lips with annoyance; they worked him too hard, knowing he would drop his own personal needs and do whatever was needed for the company. All the more reason she needed to keep her eye on him. With a sigh, Vivian stood up, noting the time on her watch. Alan had been in his office for two hours, and she wanted to check in on him, see if he needed her help. Walking briskly to the door, she opened it and stepped inside, not having to look around to know what the interior looked like: soft, pale carpeting muffled her footsteps in a room that wasn't all that big, the main focus being a solid wooden desk that Alan had used for a very long time. As much as he liked technology, the older man had a fondness for stability and endurance, qualities the old desk amply personified. A polished wooden coat stand held Alan's comfortable trench coat, standing against the wall near the door along with a bookshelf that held various programming manuals and books on technology. Some of the books were even older than she was, a fact that amused her just a bit. Vivian stopped in the doorway, seeing the executive desk chair pushed back and empty. Her puzzled glance turned to the right, where a small leather sofa resided against the wall. Suppressing a chuckle, she took in the sight of a silver-gray head reclined against the arm of the piece of furniture, Alan's long form draped over the cushions. It wasn't a very big couch, only wide enough for two people, so his right calf was perched on a small overhang between the edge and the far arm of the sofa, while his left knee was bent, the sole of his shoe resting on the floor. His right arm was tucked close to his body, forearm resting atop a still-flat belly, the fingers of his left hand dangling toward the floor in an elegantly curved fashion. Alan looked so peaceful that she hated to wake him up. Quietly she stepped back out and closed the door, resolving to let him get some well-deserved sleep if at all possible.

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The pleasant darkness of sleep began to recede as a voice pulled at him, a hand at his shoulder.

"Mr. Bradley? Alan? You should probably get up." He finally recognized Vivian's voice, sleep-heavy eyelids opening to blink up at his secretary, who was leaning over him. A long-fingered hand wiped over his face, pushing against the black plastic frames of his glasses so they bit into the bridge of his nose.

"Mm…" he murmured, still half under and groggy. "Wha'time'izzit?" She laughed at the mumbled sentence, standing up and moving back to let him swing around, both his feet now on the floor with her boss looking slightly woozy. Alan was a morning person, but it was obvious he'd been sleeping very deeply when she'd felt the need to rouse him.

"It's eleven. You have time to get woken up and go help Mackey with his presentation before lunch." He grumbled a reply that let her know exactly what he thought of that idea, but stood up and stretched a little, eyeing her sideways as she covered a laugh with her hand, amusement clear in her pale brown eyes. His own sense of humor responded to her expression, one side of his mouth quirking with repressed laughter.

"Thank you Vivian, I'll go take care of our Mr. Mackey and treat you to some lunch, how does that sound?" The blonde smiled and nodded vigorously.

"I'll finish up my work and be ready by the time you get back." She followed him out of the office, closing the door behind them before watching him head away to meet up with the ever annoying Encom Chairman. The week was already off to a great start, and Vivian looked forward to putting that smile on Alan's face again.

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Tuesday morning brought change into their lives by way of three new employees. Randall Summers, Stephanie Avers, and Marc Everett were coming in as fledgling programmers, each with good educational backgrounds. They were all three nice young people, but Vivian wasn't sure she liked Stephanie all that much. While Marc and Randall spent most of their time hanging around Mackey, as well as any high-placed executive who would look their way, Stephanie gravitated toward Alan. The former programmer liked her attitude; she was always ready to work and did the very best she could. In fact, the young brunette reminded him a lot of himself when he was younger. For her part, Vivian couldn't help feeling some reservation about the growing friendship. She would admit to being a little territorial around Alan, since she had been helping him almost from her very first day with Encom. His attention to Stephanie made her feel somewhat threatened, but mostly she worried he would get so caught up with new ideas or training that he would completely forget to take care of himself. Like Stephanie, Alan threw himself completely into his work, and it didn't take much for him to forget to check the clock. Several times during the ongoing week his secretary had already needed to break up a brainstorming session to remind him about a meeting he needed to attend, or push him to get something to eat. By the time Friday rolled around, Vivian was ready for a weekend away from the Alan Bradley fanclub-of-one.

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The weekend went by quickly, although Alan never really experienced much time away from his work. Several times a day he would check for emails, many of which were from Richard Mackey. They weren't all important, but the man delighted in spamming his inbox. Alan was the kind to just let it roll off of him, figuring the little annoyances weren't worth fighting over. With not much in the way of friends or family outside of work, there wasn't much else in his life besides Encom. However, that Monday he was more eager than usual to get back to work, ready to enjoy the budding friendship of one of their newest employees as well as looking forward to the steady support Vivian provided.

Alan walked through the building with a spring in his step, smiling and greeting others as they passed. His good cheer seemed infectious to everyone he came across, twinkling eyes and dimpled smile brightening many a person's day. Upon reaching his office, he saw Vivian hard at work already, head bowed over a day planner and several reports bundled and ready to be delivered to the executives who needed to get them. She started slightly as he set something down on her desk, her attention caught by a single deep-red rose in a delicate glass vase.

"What's this for?" Alan looked immensely pleased with himself, his broad, friendly grin firmly in place.

"Just a little something to brighten your cold morning." A faint blush rose on her cheeks as she admired the flower.

"It's beautiful, thank you Alan. Oh, I'll get the mail room guys to distribute these reports today, and your two o' clock got moved to tomorrow at the same time. But then they added a productivity meeting today at five, so that'll likely go for a couple of hours at least." Alan groaned softly, but didn't make any other sound of complaint. He figured himself the voice of the regular office workers during those things, so whatever he could do to keep the proposed measures from going overboard was worth the time, effort and the amount of bull he had to put up with.

"Thank you Vivian. I'll just go over the meeting agenda and then get into the day's work." His only-slightly dampened smile still managed to be warm and personal as he disappeared into his office.

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Alan turned the key in the door and shuffled into his house, ruffling fingers through silvery strands tiredly. He deposited his briefcase on the table just inside, unwilling to cart it around. He'd retrieve it later, but at the moment all he wanted was to drop onto his couch and relax. Thought became deed, cushions cradling him as he leaned back and undid his tie, pulling it out and opening several buttons on his dress shirt. Shoes were quickly untied and toed off as Alan's mind processed the day. The five o' clock meeting had turned into a three hour debate, with Mackey on one side and himself on the other. The three executives in the meeting with them had decided in favor of Alan's arguments and voted against several so-called productivity measures that really were just ways of saving money by taking it out of the lower-level employees' pockets. He could still see the other man's face as the vote was taken, skin flushed and jaw clenched. Honestly, why Richard couldn't seem to understand that employees were the backbone of any company was beyond Alan. Then the chairman had cornered him in the parking garage as he was leaving, stepping into his personal space, almost trying to intimidate him. But as mild-mannered as the older man was, Alan would fight for what he believed was right. He refused to back up and stood tall, his own height outmatching the other's by an inch, meeting anger with calm.

"What the hell Bradley! It was a perfectly good strategy, we could have invested the money into new resources, new projects. Why would you go the other way?" Alan shook his head, lips drawn in a straight line.

"The families who depend on that income don't need a reduction in salary. If you're looking to trim the fat, there are probably numerous ways that would actually be more productive. Reduced wages would hurt the company in the long run, we couldn't keep anyone employed for long and we'd have to go through the time of training new people." Mackey clenched his fists.

"You don't really have the authority to be making those decisions. I don't even know why you attend meetings at all," he scoffed, obviously trying to wound the other man's pride. Alan's eyes flashed in an unaccustomed show of anger.

"I am listed on the payroll as a consultant, Richard. So, I consulted." He spoke in clipped tones, cutting the confrontation short by turning his back and getting into his car. In his rearview mirror he could see Mackey watch him drive away, the younger man's body still rigid and angry.

Alan pushed the memory aside, too tired to worry about it anymore. Adding to his exhaustion was the traffic jam caused by an accident that delayed his arrival home by another hour. Both hands wiped over his face, a little groan breaking the silence around him. What he needed was a bite to eat. He reluctantly stood up and made a light supper of some leftover baked ham and bread. While he was up, Alan figured he'd better get his briefcase and make sure it was organized for the next day. He ended up back on the couch, plated sandwich on his left knee and the briefcase next to him. When he opened it up, on the top of the stack of papers was a small sticky note. It was pale yellow, and on it was written 'Your secret admirer' with a little heart drawn underneath. Alan was taken aback, both by the sudden appearance of the note and what it said. Who on earth would leave him the equivalent of a little love note? And how did they get it into his briefcase? Granted, it wasn't the kind that locked, so anyone could get into it. And he didn't exactly guard it closely while at work. Shaking his head, Alan set the note onto his coffee table and shuffled through the papers, making notes on some and ensuring everything was organized. Then he checked his emails again on his tablet before tucking everything back into the case. A heavy sigh, and a brief thought about how there was never enough time in the day, brought the evening to a close. An hour later, with dishes washed and house tidied, and all bed preparations made, the lights went out in Alan's home for the night.

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Tuesday dawned with milder temperatures, and Alan opted to drape his coat over his arm to better enjoy the nice weather. Being a very sensible man, he had decided to bring the coat along anyway, just in case it turned cooler again before he left work. Getting out as late as he did, that was almost a certainty. But for the morning, he enjoyed walking into work in a comfortable dark gray suit and pale gray shirt, a gray tie with black pinstriping completing it. The ensemble complemented his feathered, silvery hair, although Alan didn't really know that. He just liked the way it felt, and it was one of his nicer suits. He didn't want to admit it, but the thought of having a secret admirer made him want to stand a little straighter and look a little less rumpled for a change. Female heads turned as the older programmer moved past them, one of them belonging to Stephanie Avers. She fell into step beside him, giving a soft little whistle of appreciation.

"Alan, please tell me you look like that because you're going on a date this evening." She laughed as he stopped in his tracks and looked over at her, startled.

"Look like what?" His head bowed as he looked down at himself and then back at her, catching her grin. He managed a pointed look, hands on hips, briefcase canted at an angle as he held onto it. "No, I don't have a date, young lady. But if I did, would that be so strange? I'm not dead, you know." He started walking again, almost leaving her behind as she was caught with her mouth open. Alan stifled his own amusement as she caught up to him, quirking one pale eyebrow at her. She patted him on the arm as they moved past offices, almost to his.

"It wouldn't be strange. I guess what I meant was… Well, you're a really great guy. You deserve to have somebody in your life." Stephanie looked up at him seriously, and all humor left him. Had she left the note in his briefcase? He hadn't seen her near his office, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. He settled on a shrug in response, tossing a wave at Vivian as they approached her desk.

"Well, I had someone a long time ago. But now I'm really too busy for anything like that. I was just joking, really." A gentle smile barely revealed his dimples as he waved her on to get going on her work before turning to his secretary. "Good morning Vivian!" He beamed at her, then cocked his head to one side. "Oh, your hair is down today. I don't think I've ever seen it down before." Her soft blonde waves were curling over her shoulders, catching the light so they glistened. "You should do it more often, your hair is lovely," he told her sincerely. Vivian looked very pleased.

"Thanks Alan. Looks like we both wanted to shake things up today," she replied with a look at his suit, and they both chuckled. She was one of the best things about his workday, and Alan was very grateful the extremely capable girl had decided to work for Encom.

Tuesday was turning into a much better work day than the previous one. Alan managed to get all his scheduled tasks and meetings done with nothing else new added to the agenda. He was grateful for a break in the rush and strain, able to enjoy a casual lunch sitting in his office with Vivian laughing over some office chatter. By the end of the day, they were both actually ready to pack up and head out. Alan hummed to himself as he jotted down some notes on his tablet, closed down the emails, and put it into his briefcase, shutting and locking his office door. Vivian had already left, rushing to get to a meet up with friends at a restaurant. The older programmer couldn't fault her for needing some time away from her boss, although he didn't relish going home to an empty house. Maybe he needed to get a pet or something, like Sam. He had a vague recollection of something about a rescue, a dog of some sort. Then again, with his unexpected schedule, he couldn't take proper care of anything living unless it was a plant. Thoughts of his godson dimmed his cheer, and Alan huffed softly. As loyal as he was to Kevin Flynn, he was just as loyal to the man's son, no matter how carelessly the boy treated him. Sam had been the closest thing resembling a child in Alan's life, and the older man's very nature insisted on being there for the younger Flynn whenever he was needed.

Alan shook his head, ruffling the strands of hair with his fingers, clearing his thoughts. No more pity party allowed; he had a good life, even if it wasn't the kind he'd expected to have by now. He was healthy, fit, and done with work early, by god! Purposeful steps took him to the elevator, peace and quiet surrounding him. Most of the employees left as soon as the clock hit five, and this time, Alan Bradley could count himself among them. He practically rocked back and forth on his heels on the ride down, shoes tapping a rhythm on the concrete floor of the garage once he'd exited. Something fluttered under his windshield wiper, catching his eye while approaching. It was another note, this one on a discarded piece of card stock. Red gel ink swirled over the white surface, looking almost like a valentine card as it proclaimed 'You warm my heart!' Alan looked around but didn't see anyone nearby. His was just about the only vehicle left. A faint pink blush rose over his cheekbones as he gazed down at the piece of paper before tucking it into his breast pocket. Alan Bradley, fifty-nine-year-old programmer and silver-haired mascot for Encom, was somebody's crush.

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All good things must come to an end, so it was not completely unexpected when Alan's little happiness bubble was popped very thoroughly that Thursday. The day started out well enough: a working breakfast with Vivian over a newly added meeting for the afternoon, followed by a discussion in his office with Stephanie on her latest project. He was pleased with her progress, and she was certainly making friends quickly with the rest of the programmers. Alan was typing away at his laptop, writing up an email and enjoying the gentle classical music he had playing in the background. It was one of those rare, fully contented times the programmer didn't see many of anymore, and the moment was all too short-lived as Mackey burst through the door without knocking and then swinging it shut behind him with full force. Alan looked up, mildly surprised, but not nearly as startled as Richard had probably been trying for.

"Well, won't you come in Richard," he said calmly, gesturing to one of the straightback chairs in front of his desk. The fuming executive ignored them and leaned down, palms flat on the wooden surface in front of him, glaring into the other man's hazel eyes.

"When are you going to understand that your role in this company is just illusion?" the company chairman growled. "You're only here to satisfy some of the older shareholders, you don't even contribute that much besides pushing paper and showing up." Alan ignored the burning in his gut that urged him to yell back or lunge across the desk and deck the other man. If Mackey was that mad, he must be feeling threatened, and that in itself gave the programmer a sense of accomplishment.

"If I'm as obsolete as you seem to think, why are you getting so worked up? Are you still upset about that meeting? We decided the best option as a group. It's not my fault the outcome wasn't what you were hoping it would be." Mackey smacked the desk with the heel of his palm.

"You don't even know what's best for the company anymore, old man!" he sneered, straightening up and adjusting his tie. Alan regarded him with a slight sadness in his eyes.

"Richard, sometimes the best thing for the company isn't all about the almighty dollar. The people count for something too. Without them, the money wouldn't happen at all. Surely you see that…" His answer was a disgusted grunt and the sight of the younger man's retreating back as he left the office in a very bad mood. Alan sighed, resting his chin on his left palm, grateful that he'd at least kept his cool in the confrontation.

That discussion cast a slight pall over the rest of the work day, but it wasn't too bad otherwise. He didn't get the sense of accomplishment that he used to from writing lines of code and seeing a program helping the company through its function, but he still enjoyed being needed even in the small measure his current job description afforded. Alan locked up his office once again at the end of the day, a gentle hand at Vivian's back as he escorted her to the elevator. There was plenty of time to get home and enjoy a slightly late supper. He was almost disappointed to have found no note by then, as a slight ego boost would have been nice after his conversation with Mackey. He would be glad to see the next one that much more. If there was a next one. Hopefully.

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Alan pulled into his driveway and cut the engine just as darkness started to settle over the evening. He sat inside the car for a minute, gathering his briefcase and getting the keys in hand to pick out the appropriate one to the house. The programmer's long legs quickly reached his door, unlocking it and moving inside. He flicked the switch to turn the lights on, briefcase rattling against the wall while his free hand reached for the edge of the door to shut it. Before he could do more than lay a hand on the door it was flung open, almost hitting him as two men rushed inside. Alan had no time to turn around, a large body behind his shoving at him, pushing the older man forward while the second intruder shut the door behind them. A hand groped at his face from behind, and Alan struggled as his glasses were pulled off and flung to the side. There was nothing but instinct as everything blurred, heightening the sense of vulnerability. Alan rammed his elbow back, catching a surprisingly soft gut hard and fast, the other man's breath whooshing out over his neck. He broke away from the arms that no longer squeezed around his chest and shoved the briefcase at the stranger's chest, turning to make a dash for the interior and his bedroom, with a door he could lock and a phone to call the police. The second home invader didn't let him get that far though, grabbing the back of his coat and jerking hard enough to throw Alan off balance. He managed to stay upright, but only just, before his forearm was grabbed, the handhold spinning him back to face a blurred form. A glimpse of movement, and he was backhanded, the skin over his right cheekbone splitting as the setting of a ring caught flesh and ripped it. The force of the blow sent him skidding sideways, the air leaving his lungs as he hit the hardwood floor in the entryway. Alan gasped as his right hand landed on something hard, the sound of glass crunching in his ears and a brief sensation of pain. Although he couldn't see it, the palm was lacerated by the now fractured lens of his glasses, plastic frame mangled from the weight of his body. The programmer was hauled to his feet, arms jerked behind his back, the second man in front of him. Fists landed blows to his unprotected ribs, and Alan gasped for air, one foot lashing out and connecting with a shinbone, causing his attacker to curse and hop in place for a minute. It wasn't enough of a breather for the older programmer as the pain started again, his left side taking most of the hits. After several blows to the stomach and side, the man behind him let go, allowing his battered body to fall to the floor. Alan felt one of them roll him over, digging in various pockets until they found his wallet while he pushed down the urge to throw up. A hand fumbled at his wrist, removing his watch and causing a hissed warning from above.

"Leave everything else, remember, he's paying us enough." The door opened and shut, leaving Alan gasping on the floor, unsure if he had imagined the cryptic words.

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Two hours later, Alan watched as members of the police force dusted for prints and checked the general area, for clues he supposed. He was still feeling a bit emotionally numb and bare, mentally as well as physically, with his shirt unbuttoned and a wrapping of some kind around his lower torso, supporting tender ribs. The EMTs had checked him for a concussion and given him the okay, two butterfly bandages gracing the sliced skin of his cheek and his injured hand wrapped over top of sterile padding. His statement had been recorded, for what little help that was with just fuzzy glimpses of dark-haired Caucasian males, and it didn't look like anything had been taken besides his wallet and watch. The briefcase was untouched, the tablet inside safe, nor had his cell phone been removed from his suit coat. It was odd that they'd rendered him completely helpless and then left, without grabbing more from the fairly well-to-do home. Alan nodded wearily at reminders from multiple voices to get checked out in a few days by his doctor, the police would be in contact later in case he'd forgotten anything, be sure to cancel credit cards and get new identification, and oh, be sure to move carefully for the next few days, just in case a rib ended up being fractured or broken. The day could hardly have ended worse, and Alan was tired enough to go to sleep standing up, the sudden rush of adrenaline draining away under the influence of aches and pains. Add to that the fact that he'd have to be up extra early in the morning to make calls to his optometrist and get his lens prescription so he could buy a new pair of glasses. Alan was always careful with his possessions, so instead of keeping a spare pair around, he usually donated the older one. Unfortunately that left him with blurred vision at the moment, but he knew his way around well enough it wasn't too much of a hindrance in his home. Alan settled into his bed that night, thoughts chasing around in his brain as he tried to get comfortable without pressing his side too much. He could probably use his lunch break to start the process for a new driver's license and maybe cancel his card, but he still needed to get new glasses, a chore that would require driving to the store. When he didn't have a license or glasses to see with. Damn it.

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Alan jerked awake as the alarm sounded, fumbling only briefly before his fingers hit the off button. He reflexively reached toward the nightstand to grab glasses that didn't exist anymore, sighing when he remembered the previous night's excitement. He sat up and swung around, wincing when his aching ribs and side protested, the very reason he'd only pulled on a pair of pajama pants the night before instead of attempting to wear the matching shirt. Well, that and he was just too damn tired to bother. The weariness hadn't completely left, but was pushed to the side for the moment so that the situation could be dealt with. First order of business was a call to Vivian, and bless her for quickly agreeing to chauffer him around until he could get some new glasses. No deliciously hot shower that morning, with the bandages needing to stay dry for a couple of days, so Alan settled for a damp washrag for his body and a water-wet comb through his hair. Moving slower than he could ever remember, he made some toast for breakfast, washing down some aspirin with juice to ease the ache in his body and jaw. The silver-haired programmer had to admit he looked pretty bad, with dark bruising showing already on his cheek, a stark contrast to the fair skin. But he managed to be ready by the time Vivian showed up at his door, at least. There hadn't really been time to fully explain the situation over the phone, so it was almost amusing when her cheerful morning perkiness turned into a look of surprised horror as he let her in.

"Oh my God Alan, what happened to you?!" He waved aside her concern with a half-smile.

"It's not really as bad as it looks. I just had some uninvited visitors last night, and in the scuffle my glasses were broken." The poor girl was still looking slightly distraught, so he hurried to reassure her. "Just a little bruising, really. And my hand got a little cut…" He held it up so she could see, touched by the genuine concern on her face.

"So you need me to get you to the office today, and take you to get new glasses?" she asked.

"And I need to cancel my credit card and get a new license, they took my wallet." Alan was thankful he kept the contents of his wallet to a minimum at least, keeping pretty much anything valuable in his briefcase. She nodded, a gentle hand laid on his arm.

"Wow, poor you, you had quite a night." Her sympathetic look warmed him to his toes. It had been years since anyone really cared about his welfare.

"Thank you Vivian, I appreciate that a lot, I really do. And I'm ready whenever you are. I'm eager for the world to stop being blurry," he joked, making her laugh.

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Alan's office was a quiet retreat after a hectic afternoon, rushing to get his everyday tasks done as well as fixing the problems caused by the break-in at his home. The new glasses were still a novelty, slimmer metal frames that were lighter than the older plastic version, so much so that he kept forgetting he was wearing them. It had been gratifying to hear all the compliments he'd gotten on them already, Stephanie adding hers just minutes before when she had dropped by to see how he was. Word had already circulated, somehow, through his immediate acquaintances, leading to offers of help and one suggestion of a cousin who was a private eye with a concealed-carry license. That one he laughingly declined, but it was nice to know he was well-liked by some people in the company.

The peace allowed for some introspection into an oddity that Alan couldn't stop thinking about: he'd passed Encom's chairman in the hall earlier in the day, after getting his new glasses. Alan's stiff movements and bruised face brought a smirk to the younger man's mouth, and at first Alan was a bit insulted. But then his brain dredged up a low, rough whisper, something about 'he' was paying them enough. If he hadn't been hearing things, who would have paid someone to do that to him? Surely their disagreement wouldn't have been enough to have Mackey hire thugs to… it didn't seem reasonable. Then again, Richard seemed very accustomed to getting his way, but it was hard for Alan to wrap his mind around the fact that regardless of the who, someone might have intended for him to get hurt. Surely not. After all, he had probably been in shock, his head and body had been aching; easy to hear things. Right?

Thankfully it was another early day for the two of them, and at five o' clock, Alan escorted Vivian down to the parking garage with an amusingly courtly air just to make her smile again. She'd kindly offered to drive him back home, rather than letting him get a cab like he had intended, and if he were truthful, Alan was glad for the company. They strolled out of the elevator, and he had just put his empty right hand in his pocket when he felt something crinkle under his fingertips. Could it be another note? The temptation was strong to pull it out and look, but if it was another communication from his secret admirer, Alan wanted to see it privately. So he chatted with Vivian as if nothing was up, waving with a smile when he was dropped off. Once inside his door, the piece of paper was pulled out and ended up being a cut-out piece of an envelope, with the words 'Kiss your hurts away'. Under the message were five little x's written in pink ink, and Alan felt inexplicably warmed by the simple gesture, welcoming the weekend with a much better frame of mind.

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That evening, Sam Flynn was engaged in a video chat with a friend who worked at Encom, Danny Weaver. Danny was sharing belated stories about the Christmas party with his long-absent friend, since Sam rarely came around anymore, not even to share in the festivities. Alan's godson sported a wide smile, their current topic of conversation amusing both young men.

"So seventy-year-old Mrs. Doreen Baker had a little too much Christmas spirit, and was leaning on poor Alan. She only comes up to his shoulder, at the most, and he was attempting to help her outside and get her a cab. Well, right in front of me, I swear man, she grabs his ass while he's got his arm around her and is being so polite and helpful." They both dissolved into silent laughter. It took a few seconds for Danny to compose himself. "Best part! Best part, Sam. About then Alan's face was really pink and I think he was relieved no one else had really noticed. But I'm so glad I was there to hear what Doreen had to say about our esteemed consultant's ass." He let the teasing words hang there for a moment before continuing. "She opened her mouth and said only one word: 'Firm!'" Sam was swept up in spasms of laughter that brought tears to his eyes.

"God, I wish you'd thought to record that…" Danny winked.

"Who says I didn't? Someone had to get Alan's expression for posterity. Just for private use though, he's too good a guy to embarrass like that, ya know?" Sam's laughter abated as he shrugged noncommittally. He hadn't seen his godfather very much in the last two years. The Encom employees were more familiar with Alan than he was, and he liked it that way. It was freeing to be away from the constant reminders of the company his father had started, and the stifling label of 'son of Flynn'. "Oh, hey! I almost forgot." Danny's voice interrupted Sam's thoughts. "Check out some pics from the Christmas party, there were a couple of cute secretaries there. If you see anybody you're interested in, just point 'em out to me and I can introduce you. Vivian posted a bunch of photos on her Facebook page. Just check out the Christmas album." Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Vivian is Alan's secretary right?" Danny had mentioned the name before, and had nothing but ringing endorsements for Alan's loyal right-hand woman.

"Yeah, Vivian Hale. She's easy to find, her profile pic is an Encom logo." They both laughed and then said goodbye, as Dan had to head out to pick up some dinner for his sick sister. Sam opened up his web browser and headed to Facebook. Just like Danny had said, she was easy to locate, and he began looking through the Christmas pics. Taken with a cell phone camera, looked like, but good quality. Scenes of joy and cheer scrolled past until he stopped on a pic of Alan. His godfather was smiling widely, looking down at a blonde-haired young woman who had her arm through his. She was wiping at his cheek, his tall frame bent slightly to allow her access, and just over their heads was a bunch of mistletoe. Probably getting lipstick off of his skin where she'd given him a chaste Christmas kiss. The caption said the girl was Vivian, and Sam felt a brief stab of envy, if only for a moment. He hadn't seen Alan smile like that because of something he'd done in a very long time. Sam sat back, not really feeling like looking through anymore pictures. Without thinking about it, he clicked back to Vivian's profile, curious about this girl who seemed really close to Alan. Under the Groups section, there was only one choice: DecemberMay. Didn't that phrase refer to couples who were years apart in age? Huh, maybe she had friends in that kind of relationship. He clicked the link to the group, which was public, and started browsing through the posts. Seemed like a nice group of people, actually, sharing stories of first dates and getting support from the other members. But it looked like Vivian's posts were set to show only to members of the group, which only strengthened his desire to see them. Sam Flynn wasn't a huge fan of programming, although he had the knowledge to be as good as his dad at least. But in his opinion it was so tedious as to render it almost unappealing. However, give him something to find a backdoor into or access what he wasn't supposed to see… Without too much trouble he'd managed to make it show Vivian's missing posts, startled by what he read in the most recent one.

_Hey everybody, keep my guy in your thoughts. He had a home invasion incident last night, and they bloodied him up some. Could have been worse, thank goodness it wasn't. Silver lining: his glasses were broken and I got to see him without them. He looks so cute trying to look at a blurry world. Lol_

Sam stared at the post. Looked like she had an older boyfriend, wow. But why would she want to hide that stuff from non-group members? He doubted anyone at Encom would really hold that kind of relationship against her. Well, not anyone who mattered, anyway. Sam smirked to himself, scrolling through the sympathetic comments to the next of her posts to show up.

_Be still my heart! He brought me a red rose today, just surprised me out of the blue. How thoughtful, right? I swear, I've found the sweetest, most romantic guy on the planet. Present company included of course! *winkface*_

Hm, nothing really there. What was next…

_Aw, got a really good pic of him today. Melts my heart, take a look! He's been working so hard, barely got any rest the last three days, and he finally crashed on the couch to get some needed sleep. Even his amazing stamina takes a nosedive every once in a while, but I'm here to make sure he takes care of himself!_

Sam rolled his eyes, unsure if there was supposed to be innuendo hidden in there or not, but finding it vaguely weird that he even read that into a post by a twenty-something about an older guy. Scrolling down brought the pic into sight, and he stared outright. Wait a second. That long frame was on a very familiar couch, looking like the one that had been in Alan's office since before he'd stopped talking to his dad's best friend. The angle of the shot wasn't completely from the side, instead turned so the guy's hair was facing more toward the camera. But he could see the edge of a pair of black-framed glasses, and the watch on the right wrist, where his left-handed godfather wore his, looked suspiciously like Alan's. Further down in the older posts were buried more candid shots that were definitely of Alan, most of them with the older man half turned away, or with his eyes closed, as if he were thinking about something. The hell…? Since when did Alan have a girlfriend, and a much younger one at that! Although it wasn't like his godfather was obligated to share anything with him; it wasn't as though he himself had really opened up communication. Looked like they wanted to keep it a secret, which made a kind of sense, since they worked together and all. Wow, by-the-book Alan engaged in covert romantic behavior… he needed to meet Vivian and see for himself the girl who could get Alan to do anything so out of character.

A thought zinged through his mind at that instant, recalling the most recent post. Alan had been hurt? Why hadn't anyone mentioned it to him? Given the level of non-interest he'd shown in his godfather for a while, maybe it wasn't so surprising… Sam felt an unaccustomed twinge of guilt that he quickly squashed. Alan was a big boy, way old enough to handle whatever life threw at him. And Sam didn't want to bring his surrogate father into his life just when he was enjoying his youth and lack of responsibility. He clamped down on the concern, pushing it into a little corner of his mind for the moment. First things first: meet Ms. Vivian Hale.

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Vivian waved goodbye to Alan as they separated to head to their cars. She was glad to see him smiling again so soon after he'd had such a hard time the last few days. His secretary had certainly tried to do her part to bring out that grin, doing little things to cheer him up like surprising him with homemade baked goods or doing her best to keep some of his schedule free for a little downtime during the day. Even with four days behind him, poor Alan still looked worse for the wear that Tuesday, bruised face and slowly-healing ribs causing him some discomfort. Vivian planned to go home and put together a nice pot of soup, some of which would go to her favorite person at Encom tomorrow. But when she walked toward her car, she saw someone leaning against it. He was a young man with short, dark blonde hair, and he looked vaguely familiar. Her steps slowed, giving her time to recognize him. Oh, yes, she'd seen a picture of this man on Alan's desk, although it was from several years prior. She hadn't seen him on company property since she started working at Encom. What was he doing here, by her car of all places?

"Sam? It is Sam, right?" she called out, startling him. He straightened up abruptly, his thoughts apparently elsewhere until she'd spoken. His eyes traveled over her, although Vivian got the impression his regard was from curiosity more than any personal interest. Sam's mouth quirked up in what might be a devastating smile, if she were attracted to his type.

"Yeah, and you're Vivian. I know it's sudden, but I wanted to meet you and talk, if you've got some time. Maybe go somewhere and get some coffee." He seemed self-assured, but there was an undercurrent of nervousness in the set of those broad shoulders. This didn't look like some kind of pick up. Kevin Flynn's son wanted to talk about something specific, and she could only think of two things they had in common: Encom and Alan Bradley.

Ten minutes later they were seated inside a café with their beverages of choice. Sam had opted for plain coffee, while Vivian ordered a sweeter concoction with frothed milk and hazelnut syrup. She idly swirled the half-full cup in front of her while watching the young man seated across the table. He'd spent the last few minutes in small talk, and it looked like he was finally working his way to whatever subject he had on his mind.

"So, you and Alan are an item huh." It didn't sound like a question, and she jerked upright, eyes wide.

"Wh… what makes you think that?" she asked, mortified at the little squeak in her voice. As far as she knew, nobody at Encom knew about her crush on her boss. Also as far as she knew, Alan saw her through the eyes of friendship only, in spite of how attracted she was to him. So how did someone barely associated with the company even come up with that idea? Sam gave a half-shrug, turning his coffee mug with one hand, blue eyes looking straight into hers.

"One thing led to another and I happened to look at a little group called December/May…" He left the words hanging, and her mouth dropped open. He'd seen the… how did even manage to do that? Her cheeks flushed with mortification. Oh God, please don't let him tell Alan! That thought raced through her mind as she licked her lips nervously. The lasts thing Vivian wanted was for Encom's wonderful executive consultant to find out she'd invented an entire relationship with him online. Sam quirked an eyebrow at her heated face, but the blonde across from him had dropped her gaze and couldn't bear to look up. Guilt and embarrassment chased through her mind, and she only felt worse when he spoke again. "Not that it's any of my business what you and Alan do outside of the office. I was just surprised, is all. He's such a… well, old-fashioned, by the book kinda guy." Sam chuckled. Inwardly he was wondering why he should even care. It really wasn't his business, but it was all so out of character for his godfather. In fact, he should get up, make his apologies and get out of her hair. She might have had plans with Alan after all, and…

"Alan… isn't in a relationship with me." The words were spoken quietly but firmly, startling him into looking right into her face. Her expression was miserable but resolute, and he leaned forward, truly perplexed.

"But… the posts on that group, and all the pictures…" Vivian shook her head, pushing her cup away.

"I snuck the pics with my cell phone when he wasn't looking. I just… I really do like Alan. Very much. But he doesn't see me that way." Sam sat back, completely dumbfounded. First his mindset had been shaken by the seeming fact that Alan had a twenty-something girlfriend. Then he found out that no, they weren't in a relationship, but not because of any reluctance on the lady's part. "You're not going to tell Alan, are you?" Light brown eyes looked pleadingly at him, her entire posture radiating worry. He sighed, shaking his head.

"No, I don't guess so. But don't you think what you're doing is a little, well, unhealthy?" At her surprised expression, he explained further. "You've imagined this really nice relationship with Alan, right? But you're putting it out there online, and lying to some pretty nice people in that group. That's taking a crush that extra mile, don't you think?" She squirmed a little.

"Yeah… but I was tired of never meeting guys who could match Alan's qualities. Anybody who was interested in me was always lacking something." Sam felt like squirming a little bit himself; he never really thought about Alan in-depth, not if he could help it, and hearing Vivian just about gushing over the older man made him a little uncomfortable. "You know Alan, he's so thoughtful, and kind and caring, conscientious…" She giggled. "And he's pretty easy on the eyes too. Several of the girls in the company think so." Sam blinked. Whoa. Didn't need to hear that about staid, almost-60 Alan. He waved a hand to stop her.

"He's a catch, got it. But do you see what I mean, though? It can't be good for you to kind of… obsess like this. You might need to take a step back, take a breather from Alan for a while and see where that leads." Vivian sat there silently, processing his advice, and then she nodded, very slowly.

"I see what you mean. This relationship can't go anywhere as it is, and I'm not helping myself by dwelling on it in such a public manner." Sam breathed a mental sigh of relief as she worded it better than he could have. The poor girl looked a little upset, but she was being surprisingly reasonable about the whole thing. "I… should probably give my notice tomorrow. It would be better if I went cold turkey, so to speak, instead of seeing him around Encom all the time if I just transferred to another department." She sighed. "Thanks Sam. You didn't have to be so nice about this. I'm sure you were worried about Alan after seeing those posts." He forced a smile and nodded quickly, standing as she got up and left. Truthfully though, he didn't really know what his motivation was. He just knew he had needed to find out more about the lady who he thought had captured Alan's heart. Sam sat back down and sipped at his coffee, bothered by this sudden interest in his godfather's personal life.

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For the duration of work, Vivian had sat at her desk feeling more miserable than she could ever remember. Today was the day she had to say goodbye to Alan for an unknown length of time, and it felt like she would be losing her best friend. But Sam had been right, it wasn't good for her to keep pining after the older man. She could only hope that her replacement would take care of him. The blonde had kept a cheerful face on all day, teasing Alan and enjoying their last friendly lunch in his office. It had turned into a late day, and they weren't ready to leave until almost seven. Vivian clutched an unmarked envelope in her hand, keeping it down near her side as she and Alan walked down to the garage. Thankfully most everyone had left, and there was plenty of privacy in the big, empty concrete space.

"Alan, I need to give you this," she said, stopping and offering him the envelope. He took it easily and with a smile, not suspecting anything of what was inside. His secretary hadn't been able to confess all, too embarrassed about what she had done, so all she had written was a notice of ending her employment.

"What's this?" he asked, the deep warmth of his voice washing over her and making her close her eyes. This was going to be harder than she thought, with him standing there looking at her so trustingly.

"It's my… um… I'm giving notice." Vivian risked a glance at his face, watching his expression turn from mildly curious to stunned.

"Notice? You're leaving? But why?" The questions kept coming, filling his eyes even when he stopped speaking. She shook her head, blonde strands tickling her cheeks.

"I'm sorry Alan, but I think it's best if I turn my sights elsewhere. You don't have to worry about me, I have everything taken care of. I'll be all right." His mouth worked a few moments, the envelope half-bent in his grasp as if he'd forgotten he was holding it.

"Vivian, if it's something I said, or did, then I'm sor…" His voice cut off as she placed her hand on his arm.

"Believe me Alan, you've done everything right. This is all on me, okay?" Oh God, this was hard. He looked so bewildered and a little hurt. But she knew this was for the best, even if she couldn't fully explain everything to him just yet. "Sam made a good point," she murmured to herself.

"Sam?!" Hazel eyes stared at her, and her gaze flew to his, not realizing he'd caught her softly spoken words. "Sam Flynn? What does he have to do with this?" Color rose high on his cheekbones, a bit of temper showing. Oh dear, he probably thought…

"No, no Alan, it's nothing like… well, Sam and I had a chat and..." Her lips quivered. "Oh, trust me, it's for the best." With that, she whirled around and hurried to her car, ignoring his voice calling her name.

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Alan tried to keep an open mind all the way to Sam's place, and he continued to remain calm while he waited for his godson to show up. But Vivian had looked so miserable and upset that he hadn't even bothered to go home, he just got into his car and drove immediately to the large storage unit that Sam called home. So he sat there, stomach growling but too nervous and off-kilter to eat even if there had been anything edible in Sam's fridge. He did manage to make friends with the little rescue dog the boy had taken in, but unanswered questions kept churning in his mind so that he couldn't relax even while petting the friendly little guy. It looked like young Flynn was enjoying a night out, because his bike didn't pull up to the front until almost eleven. Alan stood, unable to contain his nervous energy anymore, gaze focused intently on the young man who stepped inside.

"Alan? What's up?" Sam asked, flopping down onto the couch, his short hair tousled and looking completely relaxed and in charge. He noticed the other man's tense posture and ruffled hair, a sure sign his godfather had been running his fingers through the silvered strands in a characteristic gesture of frustration or worry. A still fading bruise colored the other's fair skin, surrounding a nasty looking cut, clashing with the updated frames of new glasses. Alan took in the scruffy jeans, tshirt and at ease position on the couch, unable to imagine him and Vivian in the same room, much less talking with each other.

"Maybe I should be asking you," he said, arms crossing, voice rumbling in a way that made Sam sit up. Encom's executive consultant was just a bit on the warpath, and being the target of that was a place Sam had never experienced before. He shifted a little before Alan spoke again. "I hear you and Vivian had a nice talk recently." The sarcasm in his voice implied it was anything but nice. "Mind telling me why she's putting in her notice?" Sam put on a cool air, shrugging his shoulders.

"That's gonna have to be between me and her, sorry Alan." He didn't want to step on Vivian's toes and say anything about her crush and online foibles, since it was obvious that she hadn't explained what their chat had been about. That meant she didn't want to tell her boss, so a rare bit of chivalry kept Sam from revealing the truth, even though it looked like Alan was ready to jump to a bad conclusion. Alan flung his arms out, obviously frustrated.

"I think I have a right to know, she's my secretary, and my friend!" The older man was agitated, feeling out of the loop and getting a little angrier for it. He felt that way a lot at Encom, and hated to experience it in his personal life as well. Sam began to feel a little guilty at hiding things from his godfather, although he couldn't see any other way without revealing Vivian's secret. With the guilt came a bit of anger too, knowing he had a good reason for not telling all, but unable to divulge it for that same reason.

"Trust me Alan, you don't have to know. She just has some things to work out, and then…"

"What do you know about Vivian?!" The question exploded from Alan's mouth, startling Sam into silence. "She's been my friend for a year and a half now, I couldn't ask for a better person to work with at Encom. And now suddenly, after a talk with you, she's decided to go elsewhere." The silver-haired man began pacing, gesturing with his hands, words pouring from him while Sam sat there on the couch, stunned by the rare outburst. A flash of white on one of the moving hands caught his eye, but the bandage failed to elicit much concern as the young Flynn came on the receiving end of a rare Bradley tirade. "I know you've been wanting some time away to figure yourself out, but does it surprise you so much that I have people in my life outside of you?" His godson sprang to his feet, angry words bubbling in his throat, but Sam tried to keep them at bay. It was getting harder and harder the more Alan's pent-up frustrations were released. "For years I was exclusively yours, Sam. I've always been there whenever and whatever you needed. But you've told me yourself many times, you don't need me anymore. What, now that you've cut ties, you suddenly feel you have some kind of responsibility over my life? My friends?" Sam's fists clenched as he refused to hold back anymore.

"Get over yourself Alan! The world is not about you!" he yelled, and they stared at each other angrily. Alan's left hand worked reflexively as he tried not to physically reel from the words thrown at him by the most important person in his life. When he spoke, his voice was calm, but low and devoid of the warmth usually present.

"No Sam, I've known that all along." The expressive hazel eyes were flat, closed down to Sam's gaze. He turned, coat swirling around him, and walked out with shoulders hunched. Sam fell back onto the couch, realizing he'd just insulted the only person who had never left him and never let him down, but too caught up in the swirl of emotions to really care.

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The tension from their argument lasted for months. Sam stubbornly refused to contact Alan for anything, withdrawing into a shell of carefree freedom, trying anything he wanted to and consequences be damned. Alan trudged on in the company, trying valiantly to do whatever he could to keep Kevin Flynn's legacy alive in hope of the day Sam would decide to claim his right, but finding it harder and harder as frustration and office politics wore him down. Never their paths would cross, except for one fateful page, sent from a disconnected number to the most faithful of men…


End file.
